


Need

by fakeditfromthewordgo



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakeditfromthewordgo/pseuds/fakeditfromthewordgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'“You can try talking to her,” Magnus told Simon one night, when he came to check on her.</p>
<p>“You probably shouldn’t,” Jace said lazily, “you’ll bore her back to sleep.”'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

“Let me through,” Simon’s voice was gruff as he tapped Clary’s back. “Please.” She nodded, touching him on the shoulder as she moved to the side, a wordless reminder that she was always there for him.

The hospital bed was surrounded, Jace and Alec on either side, looking grim, Maryse next to Alec with red-rimmed eyes. Clary had been stood next to Jace, looking like she hadn’t slept, but then she moved behind her boyfriend, lacing their fingers wordlessly. Magnus was on Alec’s other side, closest to the head of the bed, not touching his boyfriend other than standing close enough that their sides touched. For once, Maryse didn’t seem to care, but if these things paled in significance to Simon, he couldn’t imagine anything mattering to her. 

The only person that seemed to be missing wasn’t really, but she was in every way that meant anything. Isabelle lay in the centre of the bed, hair splaying out around her, a stark contrast to the white bedcovers. Her arms were cut and scarred besides the whispers left by runes, and though they were covered by her black tank, Simon knew there were huge barely-healed cuts underneath it. The blood had long been cleaned away by Alec’s careful hands, the gashes knitted together by Magnus, but still she slept. 

“Is she...” Simon’s voice caught. “Is she going to be okay?” He wanted to reach out, to stroke her face, but he was unable to move. _She’s not even your girlfriend_ , a bitter voice whispered in the back of his head.

Magnus sighed. “I’ve done everything I can. We just have to wait.” Simon noticed for the first time how tired the warlock looked, almost like he’d aged throughout the healing process. Alec, as if realising for the first time also, wrapped an arm around his waist without taking his eyes off his sister. 

Simon had been visiting Rebecca when Clary called, and not even Shadowhunters could get flights to leave earlier, so he was left pacing and biting his knuckles until he could get there. Isabelle, the beautiful, untouchable Isabelle, had been struck by some kind of demon (Clary had probably told him at some point, but all he heard was ‘Isabelle’s hurt’), and, for once, she hadn’t gotten up. Her dress had been ripped near enough in half by the creature’s barbed arm, and Magnus had only just managed to catch the poison coursing through her veins. 

She should be awake by now. No one was saying it, but as they watched her in an awful, heavy silence, they were all thinking it. Wordlessly, Maryse drew up chairs for everyone except Magnus, who looked at her for a long moment before sitting on Alec’s lap. Isabelle would have laughed.

* * *

One by one, the chairs were pushed away. Maryse went to continue her Clave duties, and Magnus couldn’t leave Brookyln high warlock-less for too long. Clary had to resume training, and eventually Jace went to observe. Alec had to eat every now and again, on Magnus’ insistence. They all came back, for hours at a time, but Simon was the only one who stayed.

No matter how many times his phone buzzed ( _dude get your ass to practice -e_ or _is everything okay?? i haven’t heard from anyone in ages. maia_ ), he didn’t leave his chair once for the next few days. Clary brought him bottled blood from Taki’s, but he barely even touched it. All he could think about was Isabelle. 

Fiery, sarcastic Isabelle. He’d always thought, somewhere, that she was practically invincible - they all had. She never got hurt. But now she had, and no one quite knew how to handle it, least of all Maryse. 

She hovered around Isabelle for a few minutes every now and again, before giving her hand an awkward squeeze and leaving again. Every time she saw Simon, her eyes narrowed. Once she’d tried to kick him out, but Alec had stopped her. 

“He’s the best thing for her,” he’d said quietly, and she’d left, face tight. Simon had been surprised, but Alec had only nodded at him, a strange respect painted across his features. 

Alec and Jace were there the most, other than him. Alec was always holding her hand, watching her, and every time he left, he kissed her on the cheek. Jace did the same, but he stared at her with his arms folded, like he was annoyed this was even happening. 

* * *

“You can try talking to her,” Magnus told Simon one night, when he came to check on her. “She might be able to hear things.” He smiled sadly. “If she can, she’s probably annoyed we haven’t even tried.” 

Simon smiled; _that’s my Izzy_ , he thought, before kicking himself mentally. Together or not, Isabelle wasn’t anyones to have. The idea of her _belonging_ to anyone was a joke. 

“You probably shouldn’t,” Jace said lazily from where he was sat opposite Simon, “you’ll bore her back to sleep.”

So he read his comics to her. Anything and everything, from Iron Man to Thor, and when he ran out of those, he started with Game of Thrones. He wondered aloud if she’d want to kill Daenerys, or want to be her - she deserved the dragons more for running in heels, he thought aloud, and he could swear he saw her mouth twitch. Just his imagination, he sighed, when nothing more happened. 

One night, he finished a chapter, closing the book, and putting it on the side. His eyes trailed over her face, her long eyelashes, tiny nose. Her slender shoulders, arms spidered with silvery lace-like scars, chest rising and falling with slow, rhythmic breaths. Her long, long legs, bare feet. Was this the first time he’d seen her without boots? He couldn’t remember, but now he wasn’t sure he wanted to see them again.

“Please wake up, Iz,” he whispered, and he knew if he could cry, there would be tears now. “Please.” 

* * *

It had been two weeks when he could tell everyone was starting to give up. Magnus’ nightly checks became the same: ‘Everything’s fine.’ _She should be awake_ were the words left unspoken, as ever. Alec’s face became tighter, more pale by the day, and one night, when Simon was alone, Magnus confided that he was worried about him. 

“I’m worried about her, too, of course,” he amended quickly. “But this would destroy him. And there’s nothing I can do.” 

Simon patted him awkwardly on the arm, as unsure how to comfort an upset warlock as he was to comfort any upset person. He was sure, though, that the stakes were higher, because any other upset person couldn’t kill him. Except Jace, possibly. “He, uh, he’s got you.” Magnus had sighed, and thanked him, leaving quickly like he’d realised just who he was talking to. 

Jace was impossible. This wouldn’t be different from normal, but even Clary was finding him difficult to deal with. He threw knives, picked fights with everyone, and threatened Simon with death when he came back from finishing off one of the bottles of blood to find him crying at Izzy’s side. 

“I just...” he’d trailed off, and Simon saw the vulnerability that he reserved just for his family. “I don’t know what to do without her--what I'd do.” He’d wiped the tears away roughly with the back of his hand, before meeting Simon’s eyes for a long time. He looked like he was about to say more, but then he just shook his head bitterly, storming out of the room.

No one had realised just how much they needed Isabelle, until she was gone.

* * *

When she finally woke up, it would’ve seemed anticlimactic if it wasn’t the best thing that had ever happened in Simon’s life. He was halfway a Bran Stark chapter when her eyelids flickered, and he knew he wasn’t making it up this time.

“Iz?” he said uncertainly, his hand flitting out to rest on her forehead. Nothing happened for a long moment, and Simon swallowed, trying to ignore the disappointment that was clenching his chest like a fist. 

“You could have at least,” her voice was quiet and waving, but it was Isabelle’s, and Simon’s heart contracted, “read The Notebook.” She shook his hand off, and sat up, finally opening her eyes to rest them on him, unreadable. 

Simon knew he should run and get the others, but for once in his life, he wanted to be selfish, and instead reached for her. She went easily, fitting into his arms as well as she always did, pressing her face against his chest. He took a moment to revel in the fact that this was Isabelle, she was okay, she was here, she was aware and she was holding him. All he could think was Isabelle, over and over again. Iz, Izzy, _Isabelle_. 

“The next time I’m out I’m going to leave a good book,” she said, the words muffled against his chest. “I mean, really.”

He drew back. “Never again, Iz. You’ve been killing us.”

“Technically,” Izzy said with a smile, “I’m the one who nearly died.” Simon gaped at her for a moment, before he burst out laughing. Isabelle joined him, and soon there were tears streaming down her face, humour and pain and thank God I’m alive all coming out in one moment. Simon wiped her eyes gently with his thumb, keeping one arm around her. 

Her breath stuttered slightly when his hand lingered on her cheek. “Hey, Simon?”

“Yeah?” 

“You know when I said I wasn’t your girlfriend?” 

It was impossible to forget, but he just nodded, repeating himself, “yeah.” 

“It doesn’t sound so bad any more.”


End file.
